


The Symposium Experience

by elounarry



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Don't like Don't read!, Language Barrier, Locker Room Sex, M/M, PWP, Top Victor Nikiforov, Viktor is 22, yuuri is 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 22:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12022860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elounarry/pseuds/elounarry
Summary: After a mediocre performance that earns him bronze, Yuuri finds solitude in an abandoned locker room. What Yuuri doesn't expect, though, is for Viktor Nikiforov himself to find him and attempt to converse with him. It becomes increasingly clear that English isn't going to get them very far and they find other means of communication, one that doesn't involve a lot of talking and requires much less clothing.





	The Symposium Experience

The flashes of the camera were almost headache inducing. Along with the booming voice of the announcer overhead, Yuuri couldn’t help the anxiety that trickled in. He could control it now, but too much longer and he would be reduced to a hysterical mess. The only thing he could do to keep his cool was stare down at his skates, regardless of everyone vying for his attention. He knew it was bad etiquette to not face the audience or the media and their flashes from the podium, but he wasn’t impressed with himself and his less than stellar performance, the reason for his oncoming anxiety. He had been so excited for this moment, to be on the same ice as _him_ , compete against _him_ as equals, even being in _his_ home country for the Rostelecom Cup had Yuuri buzzing with excitement all the way to Moscow. That buzz was all but gone now as his bronze medal reflected a glare back at him. Any fire that had curled through him had been extinguished as quickly as a cast iron rod being dunked in water. He played his program over in his head, seeing clear as day where he went wrong in his jumps and why he failed to land them, why he messed up in front of so many people.

In front of the Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuuri glanced to his right at Viktor’s raised place on the podium. He didn’t dare look any higher than his knees and risk making any sort of eye contact with him. Yuuri already made a fool of himself on the ice, he couldn’t bare sharing a look with him. Gaze focused passed Viktor, Yuuri saw Chris Giacometti on the second-place tier. Yuuri had known Chris since their junior days, sharing a rapport that Yuuri rarely felt with others and sharing just as much a love for Viktor Nikiforov. Although as they got older Chris transcended from that of a fan and moved up to what seemed to be an easy-going friendship with Viktor, a kind of closeness Yuuri had longed for for years. But Chris was far more outgoing, handsome, and charismatic, and he never stood a chance to be seen next to someone like him. Yuuri never considered himself to be an especially envious person, but when he’d catch glimpses of the two together, laughing so easily, bits of green would leak into his vision. He never let it interfere with his companionship with Chris, though, and still found himself rooting and being genuinely thrilled for him at competitions. This time around, Chris had a beautiful program that showcased his growing maturity over the years, one Yuuri could only hope to emulate. While more sexual in nature than Yuuri would feel comfortable performing himself, he was proud of the Swiss skater and his silver medal.

After official photos of the three of them standing together were taken, they were led off the ice where interviewers were waiting for them. It was all pomp and circumstance between the medal ceremony, pictures, and interviews. Matches, in his opinion, tended to vibe alongside that of the circus than a professional sporting event. Active crowds, flashy outfits, and rapturous music, it was a spectacle to behold, and while exciting, Yuuri found them to be tiring at times. Interviews by contrast were mundane and his least favorite of it all. Giving the same, scripted answers to the same, scripted questions.

“Congratulations!”

“How did you feel about your performance?”

“What will you do to improve?”

Yuuri’s translator was heaven sent as far as he was concerned, elaborating more than Yuuri could put into words and not having to worry about botching a language on international television, or in this case, not showing how disappointed he was in his performance. Yuuri knew that being an athlete in an elite circuit meant having to learn English, but he never took it seriously until he actually moved to America and under Celestino’s tutelage. He still had a long way to go.

Once the interviews were over, Yuuri was herded down the crowded hallway towards the competitors’ locker room, too close to the public lingering around. Yuuri needed a quiet, empty space before he somehow imploded on himself. Leaving his bag and glasses behind, he snuck past Celestino who was talking to one of the other coaches and weaved through the throng of individuals. Yuuri had never been to this arena before, but he didn’t let that stop him as he made his way down one of the more secluded hallways, the noises and sounds of chattering dying off the further in he went. He came upon a blocked off doorway, only being closed off by a plastic sheet. With one quick glance around he swiped the sheet up and entered the threshold. There was plywood and metal bars leaning against the walls along with carts covered in plastic with power tools scattered around. Dust covered the floor in thin layers while the overhead florescent lights cast eerie shadows on the walls. It was an unattractive sight beneath the newly remolded stadium that Yuuri had heard about.

Yuuri spotted a door to his left with a rounded male figure on it and made his way towards it, slowly pushing it inwards. He flipped on the light switch and inside was the remains of the old men’s locker room. Crusted, rusty metal lockers displaying obvious signs of neglect, some closed, some swung wide open revealing empty space and cobwebs. Unsavory in its appearance, it had a comforting presence that Yuuri was grateful for and made his way over to one of the benches that still remained. Sitting down he pulled the bronze medal from around his neck and examined it. It was like any bronze medal Yuuri had won, the title of the competition engraved on it and printed on the strap.

Bronze. His first time skating on the same ice as Viktor Nikiforov and he got bronze. He knew he should be grateful he got to skate with Viktor at all, and the fact this was his first time medaling at a GPF qualifier at 18, but he could’ve done so much better. How was Viktor supposed to see him as a serious competitor if Yuuri kept falling out of his jumps?

Yuuri sighed and let the straps slip through his fingers, the bottom of the medal grazing the ground with a small ‘clink’ and swinging back and forth.

At the sound of the door creaking open Yuuri jumped off the bench and whipped around only to see a slightly blurry figure with silver hair peaking in.

Viktor Nikiforov’s hair, to be exact.

Yuuri had to contain a gasp as Viktor smiled apologetically and opened the door enough to let himself in, walking towards Yuuri. He was in his red, white, and blue team Russia jacket and had his sports bag slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Viktor said and then followed up with English that Yuuri couldn’t understand. Great. His first time being alone with Viktor and Yuuri couldn’t even communicate properly with him. He didn’t trust his English and he doubted Japanese would get them very far.

Viktor finished and looked expectantly at him, waiting for a response. Yuuri couldn’t take Viktor’s wide eyed, open expression and meagerly shrugged his shoulders, promptly turning himself back around and plopping down on the bench. He had forgotten about the medal in his hands and tried to ball it up and stuff it in his pocket. Viktor must’ve seen this as an opening.

“Congratulations,” Viktor pointed at the offending item in his hand and gracefully sat himself down only about two feet away from Yuuri.

Yuuri still couldn’t bring himself to look Viktor in the eyes and kept his gaze focused on the medal, “Thank you.” Yuuri wanted to cringe. Did his English always sound like nails on a chalkboard? While Viktor obviously had a Russian accent he always spoke fluently and gracefully, like English didn’t have awkward sounds and a vast vocabulary. Yuuri couldn’t possibly compare.

Viktor started speaking in rapid, heavily accented English that ran together into one sound, becoming jumbled up in Yuuri’s brain and unable to process. The sound ended with an upended lilt, a question. Yuuri finally looked at Viktor’s face, really looked at him, for the first time since the medal ceremony. His skin was fair and clear, blemish free and perfect. It was one thing to see in a picture and another to see it two feet away in person. Viktor’s hair fell gingerly along his face, void of the recently cut locks that Yuuri still mourned for.

“Yuuri?” Yuuri startled at his name, blown away momentarily that Viktor even knew his name. They were both competitors, yes, but Yuuri was hardly important enough to remember.

“Yuuri, right?” Viktor asked, appearing uncomfortable at the possibility of getting his name wrong and Yuuri nodded his head rapidly.

“Yes, yes.”

Viktor sighed in relief and smiled, “Good.” He went off again into English, mentioning “competition” and “Chris” but all Yuuri could do was give a blank stare in return. Viktor trailed off and realization dawned on him, “Ah. English?” Yuuri shook his head remorsefully and raised his hand, placing his thumb and index finger in a pinching position a few centimeters apart indicating a small amount.

“Oh. Hmm.” Viktor looked down to floor thoughtfully, as if trying to find a way to convey what he wanted to say without the use of words. His eyes raked over Yuuri’s form and Yuuri thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest like a jackhammer through concrete. Yuuri stiffened when Viktor reached over and with slender fingers grasped the medal Yuuri had stuffed into his pocket in hast and delicately tugged it out. Viktor scooted closer so they were side by side with barely an inch between them and grabbed Yuuri’s hand, turning it palm up. The medal was placed in his palm with long fingers carefully forcing Yuuri’s hand to close around the shining object. Viktor’s hand didn’t move and held its position.

“Good job. Really, really good job,” The sincerity in Viktor’s voice caused Yuuri’s breath to hitch. It was said in a soft whisper, like a secret to be kept between the two. It had to be a dream for a genuine statement like that to come from the man Yuuri had admired most, to be praised by someone so talented in their craft. Yuuri only got to know Viktor through interviews and magazines, staring at the posters he proudly hung on his wall even when Mari nee-chan would make fun of him. Viktor was an unattainable image, a constant want, but unfathomable to meet in real life.

But here Yuuri was, inches away from the man himself, receiving adoration for his performance, his skill, his artistry. He wasn’t always confident in his own abilities, better at pointing out his own flaws more than his strengths, but maybe this one time he could believe it, if only because it came from Viktor.

Yuuri licked his lips to moisten them up and caught the split-second Viktor’s eyes shot to his lips. It sent a wave of heat through his cheeks and a different one through his belly. Neither of them had moved away from each other, close enough now to feel light breaths across his cheeks. Time stopped in that moment, a flash of memory came to as he recalled one of his classmates leaning down and fitting their lips together. His first and only kiss. It had been soft and gentle and chaste in a way he never could’ve imagined it; Kawabata-kun smiling down on him with a fondness and confessing his feelings. It ended with Kawabata-kun getting his heart broken and Yuuri feeling guilty about it until the older third year finally graduated.

But it was different now. Viktor looked expectant at this point, which terrified Yuuri because in this moment there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to please him. If Viktor kissed him he would return it with enthusiasm.

Yuuri didn’t understand why Viktor hadn’t made a move yet when it hit him: He was waiting for Yuuri. Viktor had made the move to sit closer to him, test the waters, see whether he’d react positively or negatively, now the ball was in his court. Being in this position was intimidating. He could hardly take the initiative to make friends with his peers, let alone make the first move in kissing someone. The slight tremors in his hands didn’t help his confidence and he balled them into fists on his leg.

With an intake of breath, he squeezed his eyes shut and closed the distance between the two of them. Yuuri didn’t see fireworks or sparks or anything cheesy romance movies displayed, his mind too busy running a mile a minute. It was close-mouthed and slightly awkward if not for the misaligned lips and that Viktor hadn’t moved yet. Hadn’t responded in the way Yuuri hoped for. Yuuri leaned back to gauge Viktor’s reaction, but before he could fully read him a hand was cupping the back of his head and pulling him back in with more force than Yuuri had initiated. Soft yet aggressive lips moved against his and Yuuri did his best to reciprocate, unsure where to place his shaking hands. He settled for slipping them over Viktor’s shoulder blades and feeling the toned muscle ripple underneath his touch, medal now forgotten on the floor.

It was too surreal. Kissing Viktor Nikiforov in an old rusty locker room following a competition that Yuuri barely scrapped by in hadn’t made it to any of his fantasies, but Viktor’s practiced hands roaming over his waist and seemingly lower was not unwanted. It woke something in him he wasn’t fully aware he had, a carnal want for lust that even his dreams hadn’t brought out. Viktor wasn’t a two-dimensional image tacked onto his wall, he was real and his hands were definitely starting to cup his ass, pulling him to straddle his lap with Yuuri’s arms going around his neck. The bench wasn’t very wide and his knees on either side of Viktor’s hips dug uncomfortably into the chipped wood.

Discomfort was pushed to the back of his mind as Viktor started moving Yuuri's hips down to meet his own and pleasure shot from his hardening member up to his stomach in a burst of heat. Yuuri groaned into Viktor’s mouth, unable to keep his voice to himself as his hips continued to grind down onto the body below his, hands remaining firmly on his ass pulling the cheeks apart in time with his hips. Yuuri wanted more. He didn’t know how much more or exactly what he wanted but he knew that Viktor’s soft strands in his own fingers, his deep moans, and the obvious bulge in the front of his pants were leaving Yuuri craving.

Viktor must’ve been having the same thoughts as he managed to stand up and slowly slide Yuuri off his lap and, with lips still connected, unzip Yuuri’s skater jacket and toss it to the floor revealing his skating outfit: a deep navy waistcoat with black silk covering the back, navy trousers, and a white dress shirt and black, silk tie. Small, shining white crystals were littered at the shoulders then fanned out the lower they went, resembling rainfall. Viktor pulled his lips away to take it in. His fingers traced over the crystals before trailing back up and using both hands to undo the buttons. Yuuri’s heart raced as Viktor undressed him, the anticipation building inside of him as each button opened with ease. With foreheads touching and breaths mingling, it wasn’t long until Viktor had him out of the waistcoat and was untucking his dress shirt and working open the other set of buttons and his tie.

Yuuri wanted to recoil as Viktor’s blue eyes raked over his body, taking in every inch of pale skin. The only thing that stopped him was the lustful look that adorned Viktor’s face, like a starving man having his first meal in weeks. It shot an inferno through Yuuri knowing that someone wanted him this bad, someone like Viktor wanted him this bad. Yuuri couldn’t process any of it, but he knew that if he thought too hard on it he’d freak and back out, making an idiot out of himself again. So he let Viktor run his hands up and down his bare torso, let Viktor kiss, lick, and nip at his neck, let himself react to Viktor’s touch without shame because he wanted this just as bad.

Yuuri used his drive to unzip and remove Viktor’s own jacket causing him to lose the deft hands over his body, but he couldn’t complain as he took in Viktor’s distracting outfit. While the trousers were black the shirt was beautifully white and pristine. Long-sleeved and high-collared, small jewels scattered over the sleeves and torso with alternating sheer vertical strips from top to bottom. A stiff, white hem of fabric lined the zipper and fanned out slightly more as it reached the collar. Silver studs in threes lay horizontal on the hem and on the high collar of the shirt. The white of everything made the blue of his eyes stand out and Yuuri had to keep his fanboy tendencies suppressed. He’d seen this outfit through the season and watched Viktor skate in it in real life, but seeing it up close was on its own level. Viktor looked regal in it, like he belonged in nothing but shiny and expensive outfits.

“Off?” Viktor said with a smirk, like he knew exactly what Yuuri was thinking. Yuuri stuttered out a “yes” and pulled the material out of the trousers and over Viktor’s head. If it were under any other circumstances Yuuri would’ve felt bad for throwing it on the ground like dirty laundry, but Viktor’s body was far too distracting. Yuuri shakily set the palm of his hands on Viktor’s chest and slowly ran his hands down, fingertips brushing over hardening nipples and flexing abs. He was beautiful in a way Yuuri could never be, with a such a defined six-pack and that V-shape that disappeared into his pants.

As if suddenly aware of what he was doing, Yuuri jerked his hands back and clutched them to his chest with a red face. To think his hands gained a mind of their own and made an attempt to map out the chiseled body before him. Viktor laughed, mirth clear on his face and grabbed Yuuri’s hands only this time setting them up on his shoulders. Pale, expert hands ran down the length of Yuuri’s arms to his shoulders and down his sides, settling on slim hips and pulling their groins together. Yuuri gasped at the sensation of their hard-ons rubbing against each other. The look in Viktor’s eyes was primal as he tilted down in once quick motion and attached their lips together. It was getting harder to keep his grasp on reality, sinking deeper into Viktor’s touches and the heat radiating through his body. With an urgent force, Viktor had him backed up against a set of lockers, the bang echoing throughout the room. The kiss went from solely moving their lips in unison to open mouths and tongue, growing more heady by the second and drawing breathy moans and sharp inhales from Yuuri.

The hands on his hips removed themselves, one grabbing Yuuri by the wrist and pinning it above his head, the other grabbing his thigh and lifting it so Viktor could slot in between his legs. Yuuri’s head and back ached from the cold metal locker slots digging into him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, now too far gone at Viktor grinding his hips into him and humping Yuuri into the solid lockers. He couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped from him which caused their lips to part. Viktor didn’t falter as he immediately fastened his lips to Yuuri’s neck again, biting down harder this time around. It dragged his mind and body asunder, allowing his body to take the helm and his mind to take the back seat. He thought too much, he knew he did, but this feeling muted his overthinking and left nothing but a pleasant buzz of more in its wake.

Viktor drew back and with Yuuri’s wrist still in hand, dragged him over to the bench. Instead of sitting Viktor spun around and started undoing the belt in Yuuri’s trousers causing alarms to go off in his head. Before he could think Yuuri seized Viktor’s hands from going further. Everything halted in that moment, like a flip switching in Yuuri’s brain with bells and sirens. What was he doing? He was half-naked in an abandoned locker room with Viktor Nikiforov ready to give his entire self over. He never could’ve imagined in his wildest fantasies that his first sexual experience would be like this. So dirty and filthy and unfamiliar. It reminded him of those racy novels his mother kept hidden away, ones he accidently found in a box and curiously flipped though. It was an embarrassing event for both when she stumbled upon him reading it. They both acted like it never happened.

But this wasn’t his mother’s novels, this was his life and he was rooted in reality by his hands tightly clasped over Viktor’s, who still hadn’t moved. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, no, but this surpassed the average want. He’s wanted to be good at ballet, to be good at figure skating, to win gold, to get to the Grand Prix, but in this moment, he’s never wanted anything more than Viktor’s hands on him, touching him in places he never bothered to explore. And it terrified him. To be so vulnerable, to his idol no less. And what was Viktor’s angle? Was he really the player the media made him out to be, jumping unsuspecting competitors when they least expected it? Or just the testosterone and adrenaline rush of winning another competition.

Yuuri finally glanced up at Viktor and took note to the softness in eyes. Gone was the lust filled gaze, now replaced with a sincere tenderness that caused Yuuri’s breath to hitch.

“I’m sorry. No?” Viktor moved to retract his hands, but Yuuri didn’t let go. If he let go Viktor would leave. Would walk out that door and probably never talk to him again. It surprised him how much that thought hurt and how much he actually wanted Viktor. He wanted him.

While still maintaining eye contact with Viktor, he toed off his tennis shoes then gently guided Viktor’s hands back to his belt, hands trembling from the leftover adrenaline from before and nervousness.

“Yes,” Yuuri said, trying to put as must conviction behind his voice as he could. He’s not entirely convinced of his confidence himself, but he didn’t need to give Viktor another reason to back out.

“Yes?”

“Yes.” He said more sternly this time, no room for argument. Viktor started undoing his belt and kissed him. It was much softer and with more patience this time around as the button and zipper were pulled apart and the trousers, along with his boxer briefs, fell to the ground. Yuuri flushed as Viktor helped him step out of them and kicked them away. Viktor had no shame and only smirked at Yuuri as he took off his own shoes, pants, and socks. It was chilly in the locker room earlier, but now, even naked, the heat of their bodies kept them warm.

Viktor grabbed hold of Yuuri by the waist and led him as he sat down and straddled the bench, guiding Yuuri down to mount in his lap. Yuuri gasped as their bare erections rubbed together while Viktor released a pleased sigh. This was nothing like using his own hand. Having an actual human being touching him, and an attractive one at that, it was inconceivable. He had goosebumps on his skin in the wake of Viktor’s hands mapping out his body, kisses becoming more hungry and open mouthed. He never thought having a tongue in his mouth would be arousing, but the slick appendage ran across his in a dirty way that sent jolts of heat to his stomach. 

Viktor leaned back momentarily to reach into one of the pockets of his sports bag he left by the bench and pulled out a package of lube and condoms. He had coy smile on his face and said something Yuuri didn’t understand. He only offered a shy smile in return. He tried not to freeze as Viktor opened the packet and poured a good amount of lube onto his index and middle finger and rubbed them together. He looked up to Yuuri in reassurance, silently asking if this is what he wanted, giving him an out if he truly wanted it. With one firm nod, Viktor took the go-ahead and reeled Yuuri closer and reached behind him to stick a slick finger at his entrance. He rubbed around it and Yuuri gasped at the cool sensation. Such a private place to be touched so tenderly. The finger breeched the tight muscle and Yuuri clenched down on the intrusion, throwing his arms around Viktor’s neck and bringing his face down. A hand ran through his previously slicked back hair and down his back to rub around his ass and thighs. “Relax,” Viktor whispered, like a caress through his whole body allowing him to relax and let the single digit slide further in. 

Yuuri squirmed slightly at the further intrusion. It wasn’t painful as much of a discomfort, but found himself exhaling in pleasure on the slide out. It continued like that for several minutes as Viktor worked Yuuri open with his finger, dropping light kisses to Yuuri’s collarbone, neck, and shoulder and gave light praise. Yuuri could only make out words like “great” and “good” but it left him pleased nonetheless.

He let out a small whine as he felt two fingers start to make their way in. The feeling was much more intense, groaning at the slight burn brought on by the stretch. They delicately slid to the first knuckle, testing the stretch and starting an in and out motion. Yuuri’s mouth dropped open with a sharp inhale and grasped onto Viktor’s shoulders more firmly as his fingers went deeper and probed around. The sensation left Yuuri with an odd sense of fullness that ignited that pang of heat in his belly. The combination of the stretch and Viktor’s warm hand fondling his ass cheek caused him to let out a moan directly into the other’s ear. The grip on Yuuri tightened and instantly yanked him forward, allowing the two fingers better access and going in just that much deeper. They scissored out and spread his hole further, a line of Russian falling from Viktor’s mouth while Yuuri moaned even louder. 

The two fingers left his body and Yuuri found himself clenching down on something that wasn’t there and missing the feeling. It wasn’t long before that feeling came back only this time bigger. Yuuri couldn’t stop whimpering as three fingers slid in. It was a tighter fit, but he started instinctively rocking back onto the digits to get them further inside and simultaneously rub their dicks together. It was a harsh reminder of their neglected cocks and Yuuri took it upon himself to wrap a hand around both and started jerking them. Viktor grunted and stilled his hand at the sudden touch and then started his hand up with more force then before, Yuuri’s fingers tightening around broad shoulders in response. 

It only took a few more thrusts until Viktor was hitting something inside of him that had him almost screaming out. The angle became more deliberate as the fingers consistently brushed around his prostate and caused Yuuri to moan out even more. It was odd to hear his own moans, but he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it as Viktor removed his fingers completely. Viktor reclined from Yuuri and locked eyes with him. Viktor’s face was flushed a pretty red with eyes dilated and glazed over. Yuuri was sure he was no better, but something stirred in him as he realized he caused Viktor to look like this. He got Viktor worked up with his own body and touch, something he’d never thought he’d be capable of. 

Yuuri took a moment to rally his breath and shift in Viktor’s lap as he watched Viktor rip the condom package open and with skilled precision roll it over his erect cock. A combination of excitement and terror ran through him and he couldn’t stop the trembles that rushed through his body. He was startled when a broad hand was brought up to cup his jaw and maneuvered his head closer to Viktor’s than before. Those blue eyes, the ones that resembled where the horizon of the sky and ocean meet, so full of warmth and kindness it made Yuuri want to cry. The hand guided their lips to connect in a sweet kiss. It was soft yet passionate and it had him turning into putty in Viktor’s hands.

After more lube was applied, they shifted around some more, Viktor lying on his back and Yuuri hovering over him trying to comfortably bracket Viktor’s hips with his knees on the compact bench. Cock in hand, Viktor slid it in between Yuuri’s cheeks, the head rubbing over the stretched entrance as anticipation rumbled through him. Viktor, with finesse and ever so slowly, breached the readied hole, Yuuri inhaling sharply as the lube allowed for it to slide in easily. Small, experimental thrusts enabled Yuuri to get used to the feeling as large hands found purchase on his hips. They didn’t control or take power over Yuuri, just left the light sting of nails in his flesh. Viktor’s eyes were clamped shut with a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and patches of red on his cheeks and down his chest. He was completely lost in the feeling and Yuuri couldn’t help the small smile that stretched on his face. He had Viktor Nikiforov under him, naked, and his cock in Yuuri’s ass. Whoever Viktor had been with before didn’t matter. This was Yuuri’s moment.

He pushed his hips down further on the shaft and whimpers turned into panted moans as he fully sat himself in Viktor’s lap, the feeling similar to getting the wind knocked out of him. He attempted to catch his breath, caught between wanting to push the intrusion out and wanting to take it deeper. It hurt and ached in his ass, but the foreign feeling of pleasure was just enough to keep going. He lifted himself on his knees and cried out at the drag of insides being rubbed so wonderfully. His hands went to Viktor’s chest for leverage as he proceeded to move his hips up and down, building speed, unable to keep his voice under control. Viktor didn’t seem to mind as he added his own groans into the mix, raking his eyes up and down Yuuri’s body; taking in his face, body, and down to where his cock disappeared into the tight ass. One hand was planted on Yuuri’s hip, now starting to use force to bring Yuuri down harder, while the other ran up his side and to his chest, rubbing over a pink, hardened nipple. Yuuri cried out louder at the stimulation, throwing his head back. 

Dangerous. That’s the only word Yuuri could describe this as. Dangerous because this type of feeling, of pleasure, was something Yuuri could easily fall and lose himself to. The power Viktor held over him was parlous, and worst of all, Yuuri was okay with it.

The cacophony of their moans echoed around the room, but Yuuri couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed, too caught up in the ecstasy Viktor had offered him. He cried out again when Viktor hit that spot from earlier that sparked more pleasure than he could’ve anticipated. It shot from his ass through his stomach, nerves tingling through the rest of his body.

Viktor moved then, adjusting them so they were sitting up, and mumbling incomprehensibly in Russian under his breath. Yuuri whimpered at the movement inside of him. 

“Yes? Yes?” Viktor was out of breath as he asked. Yuuri nodded rapidly and wrapped his arms around his neck, falling into more kisses. Viktor backed away only to attach himself to one of Yuuri’s nipples. Yuuri moaned at the contact and gently grabbed on to silver strands, wanting him somehow closer than he already was. Viktor moved again, but this time to lean back, placing one hand on the bench and wrapping the other one tightly around Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri didn’t know what to expect until Viktor was pounding up into him at breakneck speed. Yuuri’s eyes widened at the unexpected assault as Viktor hit around that spot that caused him to see stars last time and clutched onto Viktor’s shoulders for dear life. The iron grip around his waist was sturdy, not allowing for even an inch. Yuuri was completely at Viktor’s mercy, cries unabashed as he was split open again and again. It was animalistic the way Viktor handled him. He was going to have an abundance of bruises from the hardness of the bench to the greedy hands and mouth all over him. But he was willing to give to Viktor, wanted to give himself over completely if it meant experiencing this kind of pleasure. 

At this point, broken Japanese was tumbling from his lips, ranging from _yes_ to _oh god_. He knew Viktor couldn’t understand him, but it didn’t seem to matter as Viktor knew exactly how to work his body over. Maybe Yuuri was easy to read or Viktor was an expert at honing in on his sensitive spots, either way, Yuuri was on a different plane, one he was losing himself to.

That was until he started to feel the telltale signs of his orgasm building up. He brought one hand from Viktor’s shoulder to his erection and hastily started jerking off in time to Viktor’s thrusts. The heat in his stomach coiled tenfold as his cries became broken and high-pitched, ending on a strangled wail as heat spread through his body like wildfire and his cum released onto to both of their stomachs and chest. It was only a few more thrusts until Viktor was moaning through his own orgasm, milking the last bit out until he finally stopped and sat the both of them back on the bench.

They didn’t say anything. They just held each other close, trembling and panting, trying to catch their breath. Yuuri never would’ve expected sex to be so taxing, but there was a deep exhaustion setting in on top of his already tired muscles from his free skate. There was a burn in his core, thighs, and hips and he was pretty sure he would be perfectly content taking a nap on the concrete floors.

They finally pulled away and Yuuri gasped and grunted as Viktor slid out of him. He warmed up at the feeling of his hole clenching around nothing, like it needed to be filled again.

They sat on bench silently for a moment until Viktor reached in his bag and pulled out several tissues, handing a couple to Yuuri. Yuuri flushed in embarrassment, forgetting momentarily that he ejaculated over the both of them. “Sorry,” he murmured and began wiping himself off.

Viktor laughed good naturally, “It’s alright.”

They silently cleaned themselves up and got dressed. Yuuri couldn’t tell if the awkwardness in the air was because of the both of them or just him. Viktor appeared comfortable dressing in front of him, not bothering to hide any part of himself while Yuuri turned around to put on his underwear, trousers, and dress shirt. He was shaking slightly as he buttoned his shirt. Now that he was coming back to his right state of mind he couldn’t seem to process what happened. 

He had sex with Viktor Nikiforov. 

He repeated it over in his head trying to make sense of it all, but there really was none. He lost himself to Viktor, to pleasure. He wanted it, yes, but now looking back did he make the right decision? Should he have followed through with it? He doesn’t physically feel any different, except for a slight ache, but he couldn’t stop the sense of dread extending through him. Behaving like this was reckless, this could’ve been anyone, he could’ve been hurt, someone could’ve walked in and caught them-

“Yuuri?” Yuuri jumped at his name and whipped around to see Viktor fully dressed and bag slung over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” He looked genuinely concerned and maybe upset. Like he might’ve hurt Yuuri.

“Yes. I am,” It didn’t sound very convincing even to his own ears and Viktor was as just convinced. Viktor started walking towards him with an outstretched hand and in a panic Yuuri bent into a low bow.

“Thank you! _Ano_ …for…this!”

“Um…you’re welcome.” He chanced a look up to see a faint stretch of red along Viktor’s face. He straightened himself up timidly. Viktor smiled shyly and averted his eyes, “And thank you.” It was the exact opposite of the confident Viktor Yuuri had built up in his head and he couldn’t help but smile in return. He was seeing a side of Viktor that many probably didn’t get to and it eased all those voices in his head telling him that this was a mistake.

Yuuri gathered up the rest of his clothing and they headed out together. Before they left though, Viktor grabbed hold of his hand and kissed the knuckles, then leaned in and kissed him sweetly on the lips. Viktor only gave him sly smirk at his confusion before he was being dragged by Viktor back to the main hallway. Once there they let go of each other’s hands and stood there for a moment. There was a bit of tension in the silence, not much movement in the mostly empty hallways.

“Well, good-bye, Yuuri.”

“Oh, um, good-bye, Viktor.” They hugged one last time, before Viktor set off, throwing a wink over his shoulder then disappearing around a corner.

Yuuri released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and went to search for Celestino.

\---

Yuuri received an earful and a half from Celestino once he found him. He couldn’t understand most of it, his translator doing his best to keep up, but he didn’t quite have the same bite Celestino did. Normally Yuuri would be bowing and apologizing profusely, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad. He did experience an infinitesimal amount of guilt over the fact that Celestino thought he might’ve been kidnapped or hurt, but he couldn’t stop replaying his time with Viktor in his head. He stared out of the car window headed back to the hotel, day dreaming, and had to squeeze his thighs shut to tamper down on the arousal he felt when he thought about it. He had his jacket zipped up all the way to cover the massive amount of hickeys on his neck so it wasn’t like Celestino or anybody else could imagine what he did. Yuuri would probably die of embarrassment if he had to explain what happened between him and Viktor.

The panic from earlier simmered down as Yuuri bathed and settled into bed, leaving behind nothing but the resounding physical evidence of his chance encounter. The ache was real, the bruises were real, and he got a pleasant thrum in his chest whenever he imagined phantom fingers trailing along his skin. He was uncharted territory heavily guarded by his own mind and heart only to have Viktor sneak his way in and tear him apart from the inside. Viktor was swift and unforgiving and Yuuri couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad or upset. The suddenness of it all, the lack of familiarity, he didn’t mind it, in fact, after all was said and done, he found himself _liking_ it. It was new and, while terrifying, exciting in a way that his life never was. He never took chances and went out on limbs, and hooking up with his idol post competition was about the biggest limb he could think of. Catching sight of his bronze on the bedside table, Viktor’s words ran through his head, the seemingly small compliments and praise that he held close, and he thought maybe bronze wasn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY I got this out. I've been sitting on this for months just word vomiting and then editing the hell out of it. My second fic I've published but the very first one I started working on for this fandom! I do believe in canon Yuuri would know more English at this point, but I just really wanted Yuuri and Viktor to fuck based strictly on desire and lust, so I aged Yuuri and Viktor down a little so there would be a slight language barrier. I've been thinking of doing a companion piece from Viktor's POV but five years later at Sochi ;) Would people be interested?
> 
> Also idk if real life skaters get translators but in this world they do lol
> 
> The title comes from Plato's _Symposium_.
> 
> Yuuri's skating costume I made up but Viktor's comes from [Adam Rippon's 2015 free skate outift](http://www.figureskatersonline.com/adamrippon/home/gallery/2015-u-s-championships-free-skate/)
> 
> My [tumblr](http://www.katsudonyuurikatuski.tumblr.com) :)


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